


the night starts here (1/?)

by likecharity



Series: the night starts here [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-12
Updated: 2007-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He almost feels like they're playing a game of strip poker or truth or dare, as though this is as far as it all goes. It's like they're each silently daring each other to take off that one last piece of clothing. But he knows it's more than that, he knows they all want each other and have done for years. And this is the moment something is going to be done about it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night starts here (1/?)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure that Will/Anna fans and Will/Skandar fans do not get on. But this fic, hopefully, has enough for both shippers. And for Skandar/Anna fans, if they exist.

The music is heavy but inoffensive, and Skandar, on his third glass of champagne, feels it throbbing through his head. Will and Anna have been dancing together all night (Skandar, wallowing in his self-pity, refuses to acknowledge the many times Will came over to say hello and ask why he wouldn't come and join them) and he watches, sitting alone by the wall. They can't keep their eyes off each other. He feels like he's burning up with jealousy. The champagne has warmed in his sweaty hands; he finishes the glass quickly.

Will's hands curve perfectly around Anna's waist. Anna throws back her head and laughs at something he says. He seems proud. She moves away from Will just as far as is necessary, to re-adjust the neckline of the scarlet dress she's wearing. Will watches. Anna wants him to.

Skandar wonders why he keeps watching, wonders why he continues to torture himself this way. He could get up, go find Georgie and have a silly dance with her—something meaningless and fun, the way it used to be with all four of them, before they _grew up_ —or he could feign a headache and go up to the hotel early. He could, at least, go and find somebody to talk to. James is alone too; he looks like he might appreciate some company.

But Skandar just sits there, watching.

Anna leans in to whisper something in Will's ear, and she disappears off to the toilets. Will scans the room, suddenly looking awkward and uncomfortable now that she's gone, and Skandar feels a stab of selfish pleasure at this. Their eyes meet. Skandar toys with the neck of his glass—it's fancy, sort of knotted in the middle—keeping his eyes fixed on Will.

"Skandar, my man," a voice says, and Skandar knows without looking that it's James, because of the thick Scottish accent. He turns reluctantly. James sinks down into a seat next to him and coughs. Skandar thinks he's probably drunk.

"Hey," Skandar grunts, glancing back across the room, but in the split second he looked away, Will moved. He can't see him anymore. His mind automatically conjures up images of Will bursting into the ladies' and shoving Anna—unsuspecting, maybe washing her hands—up against the tiles, kissing her passionately.

"I'm sorry, mate," James slurs in his ear, bringing him back to reality. "He got there first, I suppose. That's life, eh?"

Skandar blinks, confused. "What?"

"Anna," James says. "I saw you watching them, 's all right. I won't tell."

Skandar mumbles something, hoping James will leave it there. He's got it all wrong, but he's not about to tell him. He can't deny the fact that he was watching - it's probably obvious to everyone in the building - but it's not what James thinks. He doesn't fancy Anna. At least, he doesn't think he does, though he finds her drifting into his thoughts a little too often (usually at _inappropriate_ times, like when he's trying to hate her guts, or—even worse—when he's having a wank) and he's seen, in intimate detail, just how much she's grown up over the past few years.

But he doesn't fancy her. It's not like that. He fancies _Will_ , no matter how long it took for him to admit it to himself. He fancies Will, Will with his golden hair and gleaming eyes and strong arms. Will, who wears a suit like he was bloody _born_ in it, and hugs too tightly and calls him _Skandalous_ like it doesn't mean a thing.

Will crosses the room at that moment, heading for the chairs. Anna is nowhere in sight. Skandar looks down at his hands, and sees that his glass has been filled again. (This seems to happen automatically; he almost never sees anybody do it, and apparently nobody cares that he's a still a little too young.) He takes a swig. Will stands before him. Instead of looking at Will's face, he stares fixedly at his belt-buckle (that one in the shape of a ram that he wears _everywhere_.)

"Not sure if Skandar's going to want to talk to you," James speaks up, and Skandar's _sure_ now that he's pissed. "Not after what you've been doing all night."

"Excuse me?" Will asks, ever polite, and Skandar looks up, surprised to see that despite his calm words, his eyes are blazing.

James shrugs, clumsily getting to his feet. "The Gentle, mate," he says, using the pet-name for Anna that hadn't come up since the filming of the first movie. "You beat him to it."

With that, James stumbles off, and Skandar wants to snap the stupid twisty neck of his champagne glass. He wants James to trip and fall. He finishes his champagne in one go, and has to swallow several times afterwards.

"What?" is all Will says.

"Nothing," Skandar replies.

"Skandar, can we go and talk, please?"

 _Fucking manners, all the time,_ thinks Skandar bitterly. Just once he'd like to see Will come undone, spread across a bedsheet with his legs wide open, moaning and yelling and forgetting all about his bloody P's and Q's and just screaming _yes Skandar, fuck, don't stop._

He follows him anyway; they stand by the toilets where it's smelly and damp and so brightly-lit that it makes his eyes sting.

"I don't fancy Anna," Skandar says.

"I do," Will tells him, and even though Skandar's thinking _I knew it, I knew it_ , it still hurts. Cuts him right to the bone. He wants to hit Will in the face, but he watches him instead, waiting for what's next.

Nothing comes. 

It could be the alcohol. It could be the atmosphere. It could be that he's just so sick of feeling this way without anything ever happening that he can't stand it anymore. At this point, it could be anything.

He pushes Will up against the cool brick wall and smashes their mouths together. Will makes a soft noise that's almost like a moan and pulls him closer, which is definitely _not_ what he was expecting but he doesn't care. Their tongues touch. Somewhere to their left, they hear the distant sound of a hand dryer. Will's mouth is hot and it tastes like champagne which is no real surprise, and Skandar's far too hot to be so close to him but he just can't move away.

Until a door creaks open, and he hears the sound of high heels against tiles.

Will sort of pushes him away, but Skandar finds it hard to tell because he's leaping backwards at the same time. Anna is standing there, and for some reason the first thing Skandar notices is that she must have freshened up. She has on a fresh coat of lipstick, red and shining, and her hair is neater. She just looks at them. Nobody's speaking. Nobody knows what to say.

And then - 

"I'm sorry."

It's Anna.

"I didn't mean to—er—to interrupt," she says. Skandar thinks this is the first time he's seen her struggle, the first time he's seen her look truly uncomfortable with a situation. He feels just as triumphant as he does sorry for her.

"That's okay," Will says, and he brings his hand up to his mouth as if wiping away all traces of Skandar. Anna gives him a nervous smile. Both ignore Skandar completely, and he feels like _the youngest_ again, a feeling he thinks he'll never escape from. Georgie's the youngest, of course, but a group of four always splits into two, and when it's not girls against boys (which it hasn't been for years) it's always Will and Anna, Skandar and Georgie.

And there's a bigger age gap between Skandar and Georgie anyway, one that wasn't really an issue when _he_ was younger, but she still seems like a kid, and he feels like he's always tagging along after Will and Anna—the almost-adults, acting so much more mature than him. _It's hard enough growing up anyway, but growing up on film?_ Skandar thinks vaguely of things he's read about child actors, questions he's been asked by interviewers.

"I'm so sorry," Anna says again, dragging her fingers back through her hair. _It's down, for once,_ Skandar finds himself thinking. First time in ages because she thinks it made her look _young_ —apparently the fact that she's supposed to be playing somebody a few years younger than herself in the films has slipped her mind—and as every teen girl magazine has told her, long hair tied up in a bun is _classy._

Skandar prefers it down. She looks more like the Anna he knows, looks more human and friendly, looks more like she did in _Wardrobe_ and less like a young woman movie star who wouldn't give Skandar the time of day.

"It's no big deal," says Will. _Bullshit,_ thinks Skandar. What's Will referring to? Anna walking in on them, because in Will's mind she wasn't really interrupting anything at all? Skandar doesn't know if it's the alcohol, but the kiss seems like a dream to him now. Didn't really happen. Product of his imagination like all the others.

Anna nods, but she looks sad. Skandar knows, _knows_ it's because she likes Will. And again, he feels good about it. If she hasn't kissed Will already, Skandar's _beaten her to it._ He got there first. James? Way off the mark.

"Okay," Anna breathes. "Are you two—um?"

"No," says Will quickly, at the same time Skandar says "Could be."

"I'm going to go up to bed," Anna says. She shakes her head as though trying to clear her mind that way, and then rubs her eyes, smudging her carefully-applied make-up. "I've probably had too much to drink."

"No, stay," says Will, and he reaches out to grab her arm which Skandar thinks is too forceful, too possessive. "I'm sorry Anna, I didn't mean—"

Skandar doesn't know what any of this means. Are Will and Anna a couple? He's certain they're not, because from his careful surveillance they'd been _almost there_ for months—it wasn't quite happening but it was about to. Which means Will can't cheat on her, and Anna can't accuse him of doing so, because they're not in a relationship. Even so, the short kiss Skandar has shared with Will has ruined something—that much is obvious from the look in Will and Anna's eyes.

"Don't, Will," Anna snaps— _sounds like Susan,_ Skandar muses—and she pulls away, going back into the crowded room, and, presumably, heading for the exit.

"Go after her," Skandar says levelly.

"What?"

"Go on. It's her you care about," Skandar says. "It's obvious. It doesn't mean a _thing_ that I've wanted you for...for..."—he tries to work out numbers of months, numbers of years, but can't do it—"I've wanted you since we met. It doesn't matter. You want her."

"I—" says Will, and then those strong arms are grabbing him, hands clutching at his hips in desperation, and before he knows it he's shoved up against the wall, bricks cold on his back through his shirt. Will's lips are on his, hot and soft and persistant.

* * *

They'd found Anna held up, talking to Tilda, the kind of polite-but-rushed conversation that people have when one is on their way somewhere.

"Weren't you going up to the hotel?" Will'd asked, and said they'd join her, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the door. Skandar had caught up, confused at Will's sudden exit, flustered and smoothing down his hair. He'd ended up on Anna's other side. She'd looked from one to the other, one to the other, and as they passed a man offering drinks around, Will took a bottle of champagne right out of his hand.

They went to Will and Skandar's room—Georgie was asleep already in Anna's—and talked all the way there about how nobody seemed to care so much about _supervision_ now that they were a little older. It was a calculated attempt to seem normal on Will's part, Skandar figured—hanging out, having a drink and a chat, making things how they _used_ to be. 

After the second kiss, Will had three possible choices of what to do next. He could've gone on kissing Skandar—Skandar's preferred plan of action, of course—or he could've pretended nothing had happened. If he'd done the latter, he could've either left Skandar standing there on his own and gone to find Anna alone, which would have told Skandar quite explicitly that it was Anna he wanted. Or he could've taken Skandar _with_ him to find Anna. Even more dismissive. Acting as though nothing had changed, as though the three of them could casually hang out and it wouldn't be awkward.

And that was the option Will had gone for.

Which is how the three of them have ended up sitting in the middle of Will's bed, passing round a bottle of champagne. But it's not anywhere near as awkward as Skandar anticipated. They reminisce about stuff that's happened on set, and though it all seems pretty meaningless, the alcohol is getting to them and before long they're in fits of giggles, collapsing on the bed, hiccupping.

"I still want to know about that thong we bought you, Skandar," Anna says, trying to force her face into a serious expression, but her lips curl at the corners and she splutters with laughter.

Skandar takes a swig from the nearly-empty bottle of champagne. "What about it?"

"Is it in the bin? Is it in your underwear drawer?" asks Will, grinning. "Are you wearing it right now? We just don't know."

Skandar just laughs. In all honesty he doesn't even know where the thong is. Somewhere at home with other 'souvenirs' from filming. All it really did was embarrass him, anyway, and remind him that Will and Anna were close enough to buy him a joint present. Like a _couple_ would.

"It seems like so long ago," Anna sighs. "Your _fourteenth_ birthday. So young."

"We are still young," Will points out, taking the bottle from Skandar.

"We've grown up though," Anna says.

"Some more than others," Will says, eyeing the two of them as he takes a sip from the bottle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Skandar snaps, prodding Will in the side and almost making him spill champagne all over the sheets.

"Nothing," Will insists, almost blushing as he hands the bottle to Anna.

"D'you mean Anna's grown tits and I'm still just the immature prankster?" Skandar blurts out before he can stop himself, his voice icy cold. He winces at his own words, and then again at the silence that follows them.

"I should go to bed," Anna says, clearly taking offence, and she puts the bottle on the bedside table.

"I'm sorry," Skandar says quickly. He finds himself grabbing her arm, an imitation of the gesture Will made earlier that he was quick to dismiss. "No, I'm sorry, really."

Anna looks at him, her expression doubtful, uncertain.

"We've all grown up," says Will softly. "I meant that—"

"I thought you wanted to be with me," Anna says, her voice harsh and angry over Will's as she gets to the point.

Will looks at Skandar; pained, hesitant. "I do," he says, and Skandar doesn't even feel like he's a part of it anymore. It's like he's sitting on a sofa watching a soap opera; he's a viewer not a participant.

Anna kisses Will, and Skandar knows she wouldn't have if she hadn't had so much to drink. Not because she doesn't want to - alcohol has no effect on that - but because they're both _right there_ and she's aware that she saw them kissing, and anything she does is going to link directly to that. 

But she kisses him anyway. Skandar watches, and he could tell himself it's because he's sitting right in front of them and he doesn't really have any other option, but the truth is that he _wants_ to watch. How could he not? Anna's lips are so red and ripe, smudging a little lipstick over Will's, and they're kissing like it's been building up for years. Which, Skandar supposes, it has.

He feels awkward. He reaches for the champagne bottle, then changes his mind and pulls back, deciding to leave. He could go back to the party, the celebrations, find someone to talk to. He could even just go into Anna and Georgie's room and go to sleep. No one would mind. He can just imagine how that'd work out - everyone seeing Anna and Will emerging from the hotel room in the morning, sleepy and satisfied. Everyone would cheer and congratulate them. Some people would probably even say "Finally!", and the press would have a field day.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and is about to stand up when a hand wraps around his wrist, holding him still. He turns. It's Will, of course, looking at him with so many expressions on his face that Skandar can honestly say he has no clue what's going on. He looks back. Anna licks her lips and avoids looking at either of them.

"C'mere," Will murmurs, pulling Skandar a little too roughly. He tries to fight it—what's Will playing at? Is he just winding him up, is it fun for him to mess with people's emotions like this?—but he can't, not for long. Their lips meet and Skandar keeps thinking _but Anna's right here_ , because even with his eyes closed he can sense her, shifting on the bed, breathing a little quicker.

"Um..." she says softly, and they both turn to look at her. She blushes—something Skandar's rarely seen—and shrugs. "I don't know. You two..."

Skandar's hand is still in Will's, and their fingers twine tighter.

"I'm sorry," Will says quietly.

"I'm not _jealous,_ " Anna is quick to reply. "I actually...I kind of saw it coming."

Will's eyes widen. Skandar is surprised, but pleased nonetheless. He watches as Will reaches out and takes Anna's hand, holding it gently. He can't help thinking—noticing—that there's a missing link. Him and Anna. He eyes Anna's free hand, resting on the duvet, small and pale. He lets himself think about her _like that_ for the first time that hasn't been a way to accelerate an orgasm, and he takes her hand.

She looks at him in surprise. "Skandar..." she murmurs.

When Will squeezes her hand and leans towards her, Skandar is inclined to think he's being possessive, but for some reason it doesn't bother him. He watches them kiss and feels their grip tighten on his hands. Will lets go of Anna's hand, and his fingers brush her neck, then her shoulder, then, quivering, move to her chest. The dress she's wearing is tight around her breasts, and Skandar can't help remembering the time the costume department had to alter one of her outfits on set because it didn't fit her chest anymore. He remembers how embarrassed everyone was about it—how he couldn't even make a joke—and he looks at Will's hand softly cupping her breasts now, and smiles to himself.

Will squeezes his hand again, and he shuffles closer to the two of them, nervously reaching out to touch Anna's shoulder. She lets go of his hand and brings him closer, and he nuzzles against the pale skin between her neck and her shoulder. She smells like cocoa butter, and something dark and floral that he thinks is probably the perfume Tilda bought her. Bravely he presses a kiss to the skin. It's strange, he thinks, how much he wants her now, when previously he put all of his energy into telling himself he didn't. She was the enemy, she was competition. And now, for some reason, he keeps thinking _beautiful, beautiful_ and he doesn't mind that Will is touching her too. It really does seem to make sense.

Her nipples are hardening under Will's touch, he sees when he moves back. The silky fabric is thin. He remembers the time he found nipple covers in her purse, weird flower-shaped sticker things that Will explained she wore when she didn't have a bra on, so her nipples wouldn't be visible through the fabric of her dresses for premieres. Anna was mortified. He wonders if it's because of him that she's clearly not wearing them now. 

He hears the sound of a zip, and his heart begins to thud a little faster in his chest. He feels himself blushing when Anna pulls her dress over her head. She doesn't look them in the eye right away, just busies herself with folding the dress loosely in half and leaning over to put it on the floor. When she does look back at them, she's blushing too. Skandar's thinking _I'm looking at Anna's tits, oh God_ because even though she's the one showing them to him, he still feels guilty, like a pervert, like he's walked in on her changing by mistake and stayed to watch.

She giggles quietly, and Skandar realises he and Will are both just staring at her. She reaches over to Will and loosens his tie as if to even the score, and he gets the hint, pulling it off and letting her unbutton his shirt. Skandar can't keep his eyes off her, which is still a little surprising to him, no matter how amazing she looks. Her skin is smooth and pale and flawless, but for a small brown birthmark just above her bellybutton. His eyes drift lower. She's wearing plain white knickers, the elastic slightly worn, and he shifts uncomfortably on the bed when he feels himself starting to get hard.

Will struggles out of his shirt. Skandar doesn't need to take a minute to admire Will's body because he's seen it so many times before, but he does anyway and then he shuffles towards him, unable to hold back any longer. He presses their lips together and they both sigh into the kiss, comfortable, getting used to each other. Will's deft fingers start unbuttoning his shirt and Skandar almost forgets about Anna until he hears her again, just a little rustle of the sheets. Will's hands slip inside his shirt, gently stroking his waist and hips before travelling further down. He shudders when Will's hand brushes his hard-on, and Will draws back.

"You're, um," he says.

"Yeah," Skandar says, trying to act casual. He adds, sarcastically, "Stop the presses!" and Will sticks his tongue out at him.

"I was only _saying_ ," he mumbles indignantly, and Anna giggles.

Skandar pulls off his shirt and then boldly reaches for Will's belt-buckle, fumbling with it and trying to get the whole thing undone. In the end Anna has to help him and their fingers brush against each other as it comes loose. Will has to get up to shimmy out of his trousers, and while he is quick about it, he's shameless, peeling off his socks and getting back onto the bed in only his boxers as though he's alone at home with no one to see him. Skandar is somewhat jealous of his courage and he wants to prove that it's no big deal for him either, but he's getting harder by the second looking at Will, and he's embarrassed.

It's Will who does it, and he thinks this might be because he was taking too long to do it himself. Will undoes the zip and yanks down his trousers within seconds - no fiddly belt-buckles for him - and then pulls him close, kissing him again. Skandar feels like he's hard as a rock now, but he's not embarrassed any longer when he reaches down between Will's legs and feels that Will is getting that way too. He strokes Will through the thin layer of cotton, feeling Will's kissing getting more and more intense, but they break apart when Anna clears her throat.

He almost feels like they're playing a game of strip poker or truth or dare, as though this is as far as it all goes. It's like they're each silently daring each other to take off that one last piece of clothing. But he knows it's more than that, he knows they all want each other and have done for years. And this is the moment something is going to be done about it. He looks from Will to Anna. Will's perfect chest, his abs, his hips...the bulge he can see in his boxers. His mouth goes dry. The smooth, slight swell of Anna's belly, the dark shadow he can see through the thin fabric of her knickers. He senses them looking at him.

Will's the one who makes the first move, but it's not the one they expect. Instead of taking off his own underwear, he reaches forwards to take off Skandar's. Skandar shuts his eyes, leaning back and letting Will slide his boxers off. His cock bumps gently against his stomach. He's so hard it _aches_ , and he really wants to touch himself. He can't bring himself to open his eyes and look at their reactions.

It's strange how he feels so naked, so bare, so exposed, at the same time as feeling like it's not such a big deal. He's basically grown up with the two of them, and they're old friends. It almost feels natural. Yet, he still keeps his eyes squeezed shut, self-conscious, until a finger brushes his cock and he jolts, sitting up with his eyes wide open. Will bites his lip and reaches out again, wrapping his slender fingers around Skandar's cock, shifting closer to get a better angle. Skandar lets out a little gasp, automatically bucking his hips upwards a little. Will tightens his fist, apparently gaining confidence, and he lightly runs his thumb over the head of Skandar's cock, collecting the little pearl of pre-cum there and spreading it down his shaft.

Skandar looks up and sees that Anna's gaze is fixed between his legs, watching Will's hand curled around his cock as he tugs on it slowly. He grins, his embarrassment vanishing at the sight of her face, the way she looks so enthralled. Will's hand starts moving faster, slick now with the pre-cum, jerking up and down, and Skandar moans, grabbing Will and pulling him close to kiss him. He grips the sheets in his other hand, and jumps when he feels Anna's hand close over it, holding it tightly as she watches. 

Skandar's other hand finds the waistband of Will's boxers, and he clumsily pulls it down, blindly grasping Will's thick cock and marvelling at the feel of it in his hand. Will shudders against him, kissing him harder, and Skandar tries to find some sort of rhythm, hoping what he's doing feels good. Will seems to think so, pushing frantically into his fist and groaning into his mouth. Anna's hand tightens on his, squeezing it, and he squeezes back. He parts from Will, wanting to look at her briefly, and he is amazed to see that her free hand is only half-visible, the heel and wrist of it flat against her lower stomach and her fingers disappearing inside her knickers. 

"Anna!" Will gasps, and Anna grins sheepishly, almost looking apologetic as the movement of her fingers stills.

"Sorry," she says. "You just—you both look..."

"You were just having fun watching?" Will asks, teasingly. He removes his hand from Skandar's cock and Skandar would protest, but he's too curious about what's going to happen next. He lets go of them both, settling back on the bed with his legs crossed, watching.

Anna nods. "Yes," she says. "I guess I was."

"Well, you can't just _watch,_ " Will scoffs. "That won't do."

Anna looks at him, a smile creeping across her lips. "It won't?"

"Not at all."

Will reaches out, and Anna straightens out her legs, letting Will hook his thumbs into the sides of her knickers and pull them down. He drags them along her thighs, over the little bumps of her knees, down her smooth calves, and finally pulls them off. Skandar stares. He can't help it, and she doesn't seem to mind, so he figures it's probably okay. She parts her legs, trembling a little bit, and Will springs at her, kissing her and tangling his fingers in her hair. Skandar watches, ignoring the pangs of jealousy that strike him. They're not important now; he won't let them interfere.

Anna's long legs make brackets around Will's waist and she brings his hand down between her legs. Skandar can't see properly anymore, so he shuffles closer, hoping he's not being horribly obvious. He sits so close to them that he's almost touching Will, and he watches as Will's fingers brush through the dark curls between Anna's legs before delving deeper, stroking the folds of her cunt, making her gasp softly. Skandar reaches for his cock almost without thinking, touching himself as he watches them. Will finds Anna's clit, but as he presses his finger against the hard little nub she jolts, making him jerk his hand back.

"Sorry," she breathes. "Sensitive."

"I'm sorry," Will murmurs. "I'll...I'll be careful."

He touches it gently, then brings his fingers lower, and he whispers something that sounds like the word 'relax' into her ear before slowly sliding a finger inside her. Skandar watches, transfixed, his hand still around his cock but not moving. Anna sucks in a shaky breath, tossing back her head, and Will pulls his finger out a little before pushing it back in, curling it in a way that makes her shudder.

Skandar hears himself saying, "Can I...?" and is shocked by it, but Will just moves aside, letting him come closer. Anna parts her legs wider, and Skandar reaches out, wishing his hand would stop shaking. He gently touches her cunt, surprised at how hot and slick the skin feels against his fingers. The tip of his index finger stills at her entrance. Will slides his finger back out a little and they push in together. Anna groans softly, and Skandar feels her tighten. Will's finger is pressed up against his inside her. He feels a little dizzy, even more so when Anna's hand suddenly curls around his cock, small and soft and inexpert. He looks across and sees that her other hand is doing the same to Will, and the two of them begin to thrust their fingers, finding a rhythm that works.

Skandar is the first to put his thumb to use, finding that it is in the perfect place to touch Anna's clit. He's scared of hurting her like Will did, so he brushes the pad of his thumb against it gently, watching closely for her reaction. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut, and tightens her grip on his cock. He takes this to be a good sign and does it again, slicking his finger in circles against her clit. If anyone had told him the first girl he'd be doing this to would be _Anna_ he would've thought them crazy, but as it is now, there's no one else he'd rather. Will's thumb nudges his out of the way, and at first he's a little cross, but then he realises it's only fair that they share.

A moment later Will is disentangling himself from the two of them, and they turn to him in confusion. Anna sits up straight, closing her legs, and Skandar's cock throbs at the loss of her hand. He looks up at Will, who is standing now at the foot of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just—I can't wait any longer. Hold on."

He disappears into the bathroom and comes back in a second later with a small box in his hand.

"Oh," says Anna. "Oh...er..."

Skandar feels very lost until Will sits down on the bed, the box by his side, and Skandar reads the writing on it. _Oh._

"Oh, Anna, I'm sorry. I just assumed," Will says, all in one breath. He looks down. "You've never...?"

Anna shakes her head. "No," she says quietly. "But I—well, I want to. With you."

Neither of them ask Will the same question—if _he's_ ever...—Skandar because he doesn't want to know the answer, and he assumes Anna's reason is similar. Anna scoots back on the bed and lays down so that her head is on the pillow. Her dark hair pools around her head, standing out against the pale cream colour of the sheets. Will is still sitting at the foot of the bed. He pulls off his boxers properly and fumbles with the box, tearing it open and taking out a shiny foil square packet.

"You okay, Skandar?" Anna says softly, and Skandar looks back to her.

"Yeah," he says, dragging a hand back through his hair. He answers the question as if all she's asked is if he'd mind if she ate the last biscuit or something. "No, no, it's cool."

She smiles at him—a wide, happy, genuine smile that makes it hard for him to be so jealous—and then looks behind him at Will, who is crawling up the bed towards them, holding a condom. 

To his surprise, Will hands the condom to him, and says in a low voice, "Can you give me a hand?"

Skandar does, sliding the condom onto Will's swollen cock in one quick, smooth movement. Will leans down over Anna and kisses her, and Skandar is once again left sitting alone and watching them.

But not for long.

"Skandar," Will murmurs, and his voice is so breathily quiet that Skandar doesn't hear him right away and he has to speak up. "Skandar. Come here."

Skandar's not sure what he means, but he shuffles over anyway, and Will sort of grabs him by the legs and pulls him in close behind him. Skandar decides at this moment to lower his thinking to the absolute minimum—which isn't hard, considering how much he's had to drink—and he just runs his hands over Will's hips and reaches round for his cock. Skandar is aware of his own cock bumping against Will's arse at this moment but he tries his very best to ignore it, and instead concentrates on what he's doing with his hand. He brings it up and down Will's shaft a few times, and Anna wraps her legs around them both, unfortunately pulling him in even closer so his cock is right between Will's arse cheeks and oh _God_ it's distracting.

Skandar guides Will's cock into Anna slowly, moving with Will to make sure they don't go too fast. He feels her legs quivering against him, but she stays silent, looking at Will, trusting. Eventually Skandar's hand touches her cunt and he takes his fingers away one by one, letting Will sink in deeper until he is fully inside her. He leans down, leaving Skandar crouched behind him, to kiss Anna again, and she wraps her arms and legs around him. To Skandar's surprise, when Will pulls out slightly to thrust back in, he cranes his neck and reaches to kiss Skandar as well. And then he slides back into Anna, and just like that, they're having sex. Right in front of him. And somehow, it's okay.

Skandar watches them, watches how Will runs his fingers over the milk-white skin of her breasts as he fucks her, watches how their lips meet and part, watches how Will's arse and thighs tense with each thrust. He listens to the sounds they both make—Anna's soft little gasps, Will's low, throaty moans. He grabs his cock, tugging on it furiously, thinking that if he's not going to be able to join in he's bloody well going to get off on it _anyway_ , and that's when Will speaks.

"Skan—can you go into the bathroom—and look in my toilet bag," he says brokenly, not even turning around to look at Skandar as he talks. "And get the—the little bottle in there? It's the small clear one."

"W-what?" Skandar stammers.

"You're not just going to sit there, if that's what you thought," Will says, and Anna grins.

Skandar does just sit there, for at least another five or six seconds, before he comes to his senses and hurries off into the bathroom to root around in Will's toilet bag. He finds a slightly worrying amount of hair products in there, but eventually finds a small clear bottle, and, heart pounding in his chest, rushes back into the bedroom and leaps onto the bed.

"I wouldn't worry, he seems pretty eager, Will," Anna whispers, smiling, and Skandar knows he's missed part of a conversation but he doesn't care.

Will starts to tell him what to do but Skandar doesn't need it, thanks to a good mixture of common sense, guesswork, and a couple of thirty-second gay porn clips he watched on the computer once—by _mistake_ , of course. He slicks the lube onto his fingers and runs them over Will's arsehole, wishing he wasn't blushing but knowing Anna's the only one watching him. 

He thinks of fucking Anna with his finger and knows that this can't be that much different, but at the same time, he's so much more excited and so much more nervous. He pushes the tip of his finger inside Will, feeling his arse so incredibly, impossibly tight around it, and he imagines what that's going to be like around his cock and his heart thuds faster. Will stills inside Anna, and Skandar slips his finger in fully, leaning down to press kisses over Will's spine, lower back, and then, boldly, his arse.

"Skandar," Will whispers. "Another, another."

Skandar has to reach down and touch his cock at that; his aching, painfully hard cock. He slides another finger inside and lets Will fuck himself on them, watching him pushing back on them and then pushing forwards into Anna. He groans softly as Skandar scissors his fingers, stretching him. Skandar can't wait any longer. He grabs the box of condoms, ripping one open and pushing it onto his cock quickly.

"I'm sorry—can I—" Will stutters as he pulls out of Anna, and though she looks a little disappointed she seems to understand, and she watches intently as he turns back to give Skandar an encouraging smile.

Skandar's overwhelming feeling of arousal swallows his nerves until the only thing he can concentrate on is this sexual desire, this desperate aching need to be buried to the hilt inside Will. He pushes forwards, the slick tight heat surrounding the head of his cock, and he gasps at the exact same time as Will does. He thrusts deeper and deeper, listening as a breath catches in Will's throat, and finally he is fully sheathed inside. 

There are a few breathless moments of stillness. Skandar runs a trembling hand over the smooth, sweaty plane of Will's back, glancing up to see Anna. Her eyes are wide and attentive, and he can see where her hand disappears between her legs, where she is presumably touching herself as she watches them—for the second time tonight.

The first thrust pushes Will into Anna again and she lets out a little cry, something so un-Anna-like that Skandar is thrilled by it and he thrusts again, trying to encourage another. It works. Her lips fall open into a neat little 'O' and she grapples at Will's back, lifting her legs higher, her feet bumping Skandar's hips. Skandar pauses, giving himself a few seconds to appreciate this feeling, the tight, clenching heat drawing him further in. And then he succumbs to it, thrusting in and out quickly, reaching around to feel where Will is sliding into Anna, so wet and hot and perfect. 

He bends right over, pressing wet and messy kisses where Will's neck joins his shoulder, moaning against the skin. He forces his eyes open to look at Anna. Her eyes are dark with desire as they meet his, strands of her hair falling over her face. She stares at him, then reaches around to hold Will, wrapping her hands around him, moving with him as he thrusts into her. Her knuckles rub against Skandar's nipples that way, maybe a little too hard and rough but in a really _good_ way, a way that makes him fuck Will faster, feel his balls tighten, know he's not going to last much longer.

His whole body burns and aches as Will clenches around him, and he lets his hands roam, between Will and Anna again—the base of Will's cock, Anna's slick cunt. He can even reach Anna's clit if he stretches his arm enough and doesn't mind it getting squished between Will and Anna's bodies—which, to be perfectly honest, he doesn't. And Anna really seems to appreciate it, her breathing coming quicker and her fingernails digging into Will's back. Skandar watches, fascinated, as her eyes roll back and she grips Will's back even harder, her toes curling and the rest of her body going still.

When she opens her eyes again she looks almost dazed, and she runs her hand through her hair, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Skandar glances down at the red marks she's left on Will's back. He reaches for Will's balls, massaging them gently, heavy in his hand. He can't get enough of touching them both and he really hopes that there's going to be a 'next time' and that if there is, they're not going to have to go through all the embarrassment and awkwardness and alcohol that they have tonight.

"Oh, oh fuck, Skandar," Will moans suddenly, bringing Skandar back to the present, and Skandar grins. Will just _moaned_ his _name._ His life may as well be complete now. 

Of course, afterwards, Will also moans, "Anna, oh God," but it doesn't matter at this point because he's pretty sure Will's coming, clenching really tight around him and shuddering. It's this that sends Skandar over the edge. He comes hard, holding tightly onto Will's body, feeling like his orgasm is going to go on forever, rolling through him in waves. He almost feels like he's going to pass out, but then it's over, and he slips out, throwing himself down on the bed practically on top of Will and Anna, exhausted. Will actually gets up to throw the condoms away and Skandar wonders how on earth he has the energy.

Will turns off the lights too, and before he gets back onto the bed, Anna turns to Skandar and tilts his head towards hers before giving him a completely unexpected kiss. For a moment he is too shocked to even respond, but then her tongue parts his lips and he pulls her closer, kissing her back. When they break apart, he blinks at her and she only shrugs. Will clambers onto the bed without comment and settles himself between them—which, as nice as Anna's kiss was, is really how it should be, Skandar thinks—yawning and casually scratching his stomach.

"That was nice," he sighs happily.

" _'That was nice'?!_ " Anna cries in disbelief. "That's it? That was a life-changing experience, I'll have you know, Mr Moseley."

Will laughs. "All right," he says. "That was incredible. I'll no longer be able to refer to being involved in the Narnia films as the most incredible experience of my life, because I would be lying."

"Not necessarily," Anna points out. "Being involved in the Narnia films was what made you meet us."

"True," Will admits, yawning again.

"I can't feel my toes," Anna says conversationally, then suddenly gasps and adds, "Oh God, I hope these walls are thick. If Georgie heard any of that, we're going to have a hell of lot of lies to tell tomorrow."

"We're going to have a hell of a lot of lies to tell _anyway_ ," says Skandar with a sigh. "Unless you want to tell the truth about why you slept in here tonight."

"I'm sleeping in here tonight?" Anna says in a small voice.

"Anna, it's probably about three in the morning, you're completely naked, and I'm going to assume you're absolutely shattered," Will tells her. "And, like you said, you can't feel your toes. Of course you're sleeping here tonight."

Anna makes a contented little noise and snuggles up closer to Will. Skandar smiles to himself and does the same. Being involved in the Narnia films was what made him meet them. He silently thanks C.S. Lewis, Andrew Adamson, and the people who are his siblings on screen but, fortunately, are not in real life. He closes his eyes and inhales the scent of them both—sex, sweat, Will's shampoo and Anna's cocoa butter—and he lets himself drift off to sleep.

They'll deal with it all in the morning.


End file.
